


A Very Magnus Archives Holiday Party

by brionypoisoned



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Basira is my hero, Christmas Party, Elias Bouchard is a little shit, Fluff, Humor, Just absolutely the worst office Christmas party imaginable, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, Set in Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brionypoisoned/pseuds/brionypoisoned
Summary: An office holiday party set in season 3 when everyone is about to rip each other's throats out and Elias Bouchard is at peak bastard. Just a hint of jonmartin.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 12
Kudos: 134





	A Very Magnus Archives Holiday Party

If an unsuspecting visitor had walked past Conference Room A of the Magnus institute any time in the past 25 minutes, they might have witnessed Elias Bouchard struggling to balance on a foot-ladder in a wobbly attempt to hang a number of paper snowflake decorations from the ceiling. Fortunately no one had done so, or they probably would have ended up as blood spatter on a corridor wall. After awkwardly leaving the last snowflake in place, Elias adjusted his tie, carefully placed a paper crown atop his well coiffed hair, and awaited for the first member of his favorite department to enter the event space. 

He was not expecting it to be Basira. 

“I made a kunafa.” She said, without emotion, holding up a disposable pie tin containing a warm, reddish, crispy dessert. “Where should I put it?” 

“That table is fine.” Elias said with deep cordiality, gesturing towards a table at the head of the room, decorated with a cheap plastic tablecloth with hideous snowman decorations on it. The elaborately iced biscuits from a bakery down the road which Elias had contributed sat alone and unopened. Basira didn’t take one, grabbing a tiny coca-cola from the ice bucket and taking a seat in the corner of the room. 

“Do you, erm, celebrate Christmas?” Elias asked, glancing quickly at Basira’s forest green hijab. 

Basira narrowed her eyes at her supervisor, as though he were too thick to even humor. 

“About as well as you do, I expect.” She answered, opening her can of coke with a satisfying crunch.

Elias smiled in his unnerving way.

Daisy burst in, looking somewhat haggard. 

“Ah! Daisy, good to see you." Elias said. "Although, I ought to point out, you are not technically a member of our little team…”

Daisy growled at him like a german shepherd and went to stand over by Basira, arms crossed, posture defensive.

“I cannot believe you actually came to this.” Daisy hissed.

Basira shrugged.

“I like snacks.” She admitted, taking a sip. 

“I see you haven’t brought anything.” Elias said to Daisy. “If you were a bit more mindful of your email you would have seen that I sent out a spreadsheet…”

“Fuck your spreadsheet.” Daisy snapped, and Basira laughed.

At that moment the door opened and Tim and Melanie staggered in, Tim wearing a Santa hat and a crop top Christmas sweater with a dinosaur on it and Melanie in the same Ghost Hunter UK t-shirt she’d worn for the past three days. They smelled of tequila and neither of them seemed to be able to stand fully upright.

“FUCK OFF ELIAS!” Tim shouted before even fully entering the room. He somewhat haphazardly held up a plastic container, “I MADE A KUNAFA.” 

“Like hell you did!” Basira gasped. She snatched the container out of his hands and pried open the lid. There it was, soggier and colder than hers, and worse for wear from Tim swinging it all over the place, but it was undeniably an undercooked but solid effort at a kunafa. Basira narrowed her eyes at her lily white coworker.

“Tim, we can’t both have made kunafas. That’s absurd.” She said.

“This is PRECISELY why I sent out a spreadsheet...” Elias muttered.

“SHUT UP, ELIAS.” Everyone said at once. 

“More kunafas the merrier!” Tim slurred.

In her heart of hearts Basira couldn’t contradict him, so she placed the plastic container on the table next to hers.

Melanie narrowed her eyes at Elias and clumsily disentangled herself from Tim. She stomped over to the food table and with surprising strength slammed one (1) jar of peanuts down right on the middle of it. 

“There.” She said. “Food.” 

“That’s the spirit.” Tim laughed.

“Happy to have you join us, Melanie.” Elias said, voice deep, soft, and threatening. Tim and Daisy took Melanie’s arms before she could lunge at him.

“Why?” Basira scoffed. “If none of us had shown up to the party, would we all die as well? You can’t overuse that threat, Elias, it was flimsy enough to start out with.” 

Elias just smiled and poured himself a handful of peanuts, not breaking eye contact with Melanie as he did so. She probably would have punched him right between the eyes if she hadn’t been interrupted by the arrival of the last two party attendees.

“Happy Christmas! Happy Holidays!” A painfully optimistic Martin greeted everyone as he stepped into the room. He wore his usual office clothes, but with a little light up Christmas lights necklace he’d picked up at Poundland the night before. Jon stood behind him, cheeks gaunt, deep circles graying under his eyelids, looking like absolute death. He hadn't brought anything to share, which surprised precisely no one.

“Happy Christmas to you as well, Martin.” Elias said, still crunching his handful of peanuts. “How did that Swiss roll you were going to attempt turn out?” 

Martin, as it turns out, was the sole archives employee who actually used the spreadsheet.

“Well, I'd have liked to have gotten the interior curl a bit tighter…” Martin fussed, holding up a chocolate Swiss roll made with rich homemade cream and decorated with a light dusting of icing sugar and some Christmassy cinnamon red hots. 

“THE CURL’S FINE MARTIN FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST.” Tim groaned.

“He’s right Martin, you needn’t worry, it looks very good.” Jon said.

“Oh shut up, Jon.” Tim snapped.

“Please don’t!” Martin asked, sounding genuinely exhausted and upset. “Really? On Christmas?” He glared between Jon and Tim accusingly. 

“See that?” Basira whispered to Daisy, pointing to Martin’s gorgeous confection. “That’s why I come to office Christmas parties.”

Daisy mouthed something which could have been, “You’re fucking mad.” It was impossible to tell for sure. 

The next fifteen minutes proceeded with an exquisite awkwardness that defies description. The quarter of an hour felt like a million years. No one spoke to one another, a few of them made odd, kunafa heavy plates of food, and a low tension of extreme dislike and almost mythological rage filled the atmosphere.

“Why, on God’s earth, did you make us do this, Elias?” Jon finally asked, laying his red plastic fork down on his plate, now empty save a few loose peanuts. 

“‘Make’ is a strong word, Jon, I simply sent out an email.” Elias said. “There’s no dark magic force drawing you all to this conference room. You all chose to be here.”

“Well in that case, I’ll be fucking-off.” Tim said. He struggled to his feet, still visibly drunk. He bowed deeply to Melanie. “My prince,” He said. “Your peanuts were superb. May I escort you back to your cell?” 

Melanie took Tim’s arm and the two of them made their exit, blowing raspberries at Elias on the way out. 

Daisy glared at Basira, who was downing her second slice of Martin’s cake with an almost religious reverence. 

“You done, then?” Daisy asked, trying to avoid eye contact with Elias. 

“Yeah, almost.” Basira glanced up at Martin with a friendly smile. “Oy, Martin, this cake is so good, I’m gonna nominate you for Bake-Off.”

“Please don’t, I’d literally die on that show.” Martin said.

“You almost got eaten by worms here, Martin." Jon pointed out. "And you found a dead body. You think you’d die on the Great British Bake-Off?” He asked with his usual skepticism, but with an unmistakable hint of fondness in his tone.

“It’s just too much pressure!” Martin fretted. 

“All right then, I wish I could say it was good to see you.” Basira gave Martin and Jon a curt nod, said nothing to Elias, and stood up to leave. Daisy, with visible relief, rose to join her. 

“A pleasure as always, Basira!” Elias called after the retreating women. There was no response. 

Elias, Jon, and Martin, sat together alone. A few snowflakes swayed grimly below the heating vents. Martin began to visibly sweat.

“Nice to see you two spending some time together.” Elias leaned forward, sitting with his hands resting on his fingers like a 13 year old about to share some very hot gossip. “Very… collegial.” 

“Elias…” Martin hissed, nervously.

“This was a colossal waste of everyone’s time.” Jon snapped.

“Oh I don’t know, I very much enjoyed everyone’s little holiday effort.” Elias said. “It would have been lovely if someone had brought in a mince pie, or a fig pudding, but I suppose I’ll live.”

Martin gave a little nervous laugh at that and glanced over to Jon, who met his eyes with equal amused incomprehension. 

“Do you need any help tidying up?” Martin asked Elias, standing and beginning to gather all the leftover plates on the table. 

“Oh Martin, you don’t have to…” Jon protested.

“Yes, Martin, do leave it, we have a cleaning staff don’t we?” Elias rose with a smile, buttoning his suit jacket as he did so. “And with that, I’m afraid I must be off. I have some time-off requests waiting for me back in the office.” He smiled again at his two employees before leaving the room. 

Martin continued to gather up discarded cans and plates, and Jon rose to help him.

“You really shouldn’t bother.” Jon said, softly, “I don’t know what kind of charade this was supposed to be, but you certainly don’t need to tidy up after him.” 

“Oh it’s not a bother. Besides, I couldn’t just leave all this for Ellen.” Martin answered.

“Ellen?” Jon asked.

“Ellen! She cleans in the evenings? Surely you two’ve met, what with the hours you keep?” Martin answered. 

Jon was struck by dozens of memories of an older woman, with orangish dyed hair, who had used to knock at his office door around 7pm and then retreat, full of apologies, when she saw he was still in. She’d stopped even trying to enter his office after a while, which was probably why his bin was always overflowing and a thick layer of dust had settled on his computer monitor and bookshelves. He’d not once thought to ask her name.

“Oh yes.” Jon said, “Ellen.” 

“She’s got enough on her plate right now, what with her daughter going through a divorce and staying with her with two teenagers. Best to not leave a mess for her.” Martin said, busily sweeping some crumbs off the table. Jon absently began to pull down some of the paper snowflakes, watching Martin closely as he did so. 

Once things were mostly put back together Martin turned to Jon, holding the about half of his cake which had been left over.

“Would, erm, would you like to take this home with you? Truth be told I made about three of them to practice and I’m dead tired of eating them.” 

“I…” Jon felt himself flush, “No, I couldn’t Martin. Maybe… maybe you could give it to your mother?” 

“I’d like you to take it Jon.” Martin said, quickly. “You could, erm, share it with Georgie, or something.”

Jon took the offered cake with a little nod. Just another small kindness to add to the ever lengthening list. He was afraid he would never be able to repay it.

“Thank you, Martin. I… I mean, the archives, we don’t deserve you. Happy Christmas.” 

Martin smiled with a genuine soft kindness. 

“Happy Holidays, Jon.”

-FIN-

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another of my Holiday fic ideas which I get before Christmas and am unable to finish until the New Year. Enjoy!!


End file.
